Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from United Kingdom and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing PIL to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Nico. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Television,
the Bar-Kays,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Radiohead,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Pretty Things,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Simply Red,
Easy Going,
Eric Dolphy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Blancmange,
Quantec,
The Toasters,
KRS-One,
Terry Callier,
Suburban Knight,
The Music Machine,
Monolake,
The Electric Prunes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
X-102,
H. Thieme,
Country Teasers,
The Associates,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Goldenarms,
Unrelated Segments,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
John Lydon,
Index,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Banda Bassotti,
The Cure,
Moebius,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Misunderstood,
This Heat,
Alice Coltrane,
Bad Manners,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pussy Galore,
Qualms,
Joyce Sims,
World's Most,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
La Düsseldorf,
Sonic Youth,
Yellowson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gil Scott Heron,
Harry Pussy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Dave Gahan,
Lungfish,
Excepter,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scan 7,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.